Whether the weather

Paris forecast:  rain, sixties during the day, forties at night.
I don't care.
First of all, I'll be in Paris.
Second of all, I love rain.

I just posted my facebook status..."kicking into high crazy."
I do this thing, every Christmas- when I'm basically finished with my shopping, I keep shopping and going to stores and "looking." 
I think because I don't feel ready and I can't relax.
I'm kind of doing that thing right now.
I have my list in my purse. 
I need to pick up a few things.
My list will be accomplished tomorrow.

Someone told me not to take a purse. 
Or to be very careful if I do.
I've been reading about pick-pockets
and thieves
and gangs that surround you and shove
and push
and steal you blind.
I am a country bumpkin.
I live where you can walk around with your purse wide open.
If I dropped my wallet, someone would pick it up and say "ma'am, you dropped this."

They say "don't draw attention to yourself." 
Don't wear white tennis shoes.
Don't even wear white socks. 
So I went to Kohl's and bought these:

I bought the pink ones.  
(I'm insane for them.)
Pink shoes with yellow laces shouldn't draw too much attention.
I love pink.
I love pink, purple and red. 
I sound like an old lady, don't I?
(Don't answer that.)
Not certain I'll wear them in Paris. 
My sister said if I want to wear pink shoes in Paris I should.

Then I had to buy the Bee a giraffe and the book:

The Bee has a giraffe and her moms take her picture with it every month.
Then I bought myself three new pair of white socks.
(Even though I'm not supposed to wear them in Paris.)
And I bought myself a new rolling suitcase.
I've never had one before.
I had to look at (and in) every rolling suitcase I could find.
Last week I went to TJMaxx and looked at suitcases for two hours but didn't buy a one of them.
Tonight I went back to Kohl's and bought the suitcase that I wanted, originally.
High crazy.

Tomorrow I'll finish my list.
By Sunday night I'll be packed.
Monday I go to work.
Monday night I'm working out.
I figure that is better than twiddling my thumbs- seeing how I'll be all packed and ready to go and just chomping to go to bed so I can wake up and fly off to my loved ones.
I'm a planner.
I never wait until the last minute.

Remember the scene in "As Good As It Gets" when Jack Nicholson is packing and he has all of his stuff laid out on the bed? 
Everyone in the theatre was laughing and I thought "what is so funny?"
This is how I pack.

I plan my outfits for work every weekend.
And have them hanging up- ready to go.
If I didn't, I would never get to work.

I've been packing in my mind for weeks.
I don't want to take a lot so I can bring home whatever I want.
So, I will be ready.
Don't you fear.

And it will be wonderful.
Whether the weather is rain, sleet, snow, dark of night.
Because it will be rain, sleet, snow, dark of night in Paris.

I'm a real farmer, now.

This post is dedicated to my friend Kris over at Simplify and Jayme over at Tales from the Coop Keeper and chicken mamas, everywhere.  I met and have become good friends with both Kris and Jayme via blogging.

See this sweet little chick?  It is ours.  Not because we bought it at our local farm store.  Because one of our hens had it.  Our rooster fertilized the egg.  Right here on our little farm.
I always called this place a farm and my daughter always said it wasn't a real farm because we didn't have any farm animals.  We originally had nine hens and a rooster.  Last Friday Doug went to the farm store and bought six more chicks.  Then this little baby hatched.  Now we have sixteen farm animals. 
One of our buffs got broody.  When a hen gets broody, she wants to sit on eggs.  Our other hens kept putting more eggs in.  We were not certain when she started sitting so we were not certain when the 21 days would be up.  At one point, the clutch got too big and Doug threw some of the eggs out.  (I believe a good number of age in a clutch should be 10-12 eggs or so.  You can see by the photo that there are more than that.)  I was worried he threw someone out who was about to hatch.  Then I worried that our hen couldn't manage a clutch that was too big.  There was a lot of worry going on. 
This morning Doug bound into the bedroom and leaned over the bed with a huge smile on his face.  "We have a new chick."  I knew exactly what he was talking about.  We are real farmers now because we have had one of our own.  This is why I wanted a rooster to begin with - so we could have our own chicks.  Doug wanted a rooster to protect the flock and because he likes the sound of crowing.  (And crowing and crowing and crowing.)  I don't know if this chick is a rooster or a hen.  Time will tell.  I'll be hovering as mama hen takes care of it.  I hope it makes it.  And we hope more hatch.  Research tells me that from when the first chick hatches that the rest should hatch within 48 hours.  C'mon little chicks, peck your way out.  I'll keep you posted.  This has been the farm report brought to you by farmer Cheryl. 

What are they wearing in Paris?

All I've done as of late is talk about Paris.  As with any event in my life, the big question is
What to wear?
My friend sent an email recently and said "I hope you're packing this..."

oooh la la

 I said "I've got one in my suitcase right now!"

If you are a long-time reader, you remember the green trench...

Then I bought this jacket, which I think I will take.

Now, I've been researching on the Internet and reading everything I can get my hands on about Paris and Parisians and French people in general.  I read that they don't wear white tennis shoes and as soon as you appear in white tennis shoes, you are identified as an American.  I am an American and so that isn't a terrible thing (in my mind) to be identified as.  However, I don't want to be preyed upon because someone thinks I'm American.  I read that if you wear tennis shoes in Paris that they had better be pink or purple or orange or pink glitter.  (I believe I read this in My Sweet Life in Paris.)
How about these?

 I've had these for several years, but have hardly worn them.  They are Ecco shoes and very comfortable.  I asked Chelsea if she thought I should wear them...

She said "Oui, Madame!"  What do you think?  (And when did my ankles get so fat?)

Planting in Indiana

Seems every year I am chomping to plant.  Here in Indiana, they say not to plant until after Mother's Day.  I took a chance and planted today- but planted in planter boxes.  I used to live in zone 5 and now I live in zone 6a.
I buy a lot of plants at Farmer's Market and for the past few years I've bought from two people.  This year I found a new guy at Farmer's Market and I really like his plants.  And, he has good prices.  He sells his hostas five for $25.00.  I bought seven hostas from him, a begonia and a columbine.  Below is the beautiful begonia.  I love begonias because they remind me of my paternal grandma.  She always had begonias. 

Begonia

 We have two planter boxes beside the carport.  I've always planted the lower planter box with colorful annuals.  The last year or two I started mixing in some perennials.  Doug lets the chickens free-range,  and they have torn my planter all to hell.  So I decided I needed to put in larger plants.

lower bed

 The other problem I've had with the upper box is the cats thinking they can use it for a litter box.  So I planted a lot of hostas and the columbine and then we gathered stones from the creek and I edged the beds with the stones.  Hopefully that will keep the cats and the chickens out.

upper bed

I was just doing some hosta research online and it said there are approximately 45 species of hostas and 600 varieties.  I bought my hostas on two different occasions and I was trying to get a lot of variety and I'm happy to say not one is the same.  Here are all of the hostas that I purchased: 

Queen Josephine

Great Expectations

Fragrant Bouquet

Ann Kulpa

Golden Tiara

Thunderbolt

Paul's Story

I've been keeping all of them under the carport since we bought them.  It was hotter than blue blazes today (about 85 degrees) so I took the plunge and planted.  I think they will be fine.  As long as I can keep the cats and the chickens out of them!

You could learn a lot from a one year old.

When I went back east for my granddaughter's birthday I wrote this while sitting on a plane next to two cute guys from Texas on the first leg of my journey.  I may be a grandma, but I can still appreciate a couple of cute guys from Texas.  Especially if one of them is about the same age as I am.
...

After spending the weekend with my one year old granddaughter
I have decided we would all be a lot better off if we lived like life like
a one year old.

Marvel in life
Reach out and touch someone's nose with your index finger and smile.
They will smile too.

If music is playing, dance.
Most around you will not only smile, they will start to dance, as well.

When someone says hello or hi, smile and say hello or hi right back to them.

Wave at everyone
and I do mean everyone who passes by. 
They will smile and wave in return.

Kiss freely
Cuddle
Rest your head on someone's shoulder.

Lean over and really look someone in the face. 
I guarantee they will stop what it is that they are doing and smile and return your gaze.

When someone says "yay,"
clap your hands and smile broadly.
Those around will smile and applaud as well.

Life is so much more joyful with a one year old around.  I thinks we would all be a lot better off if we took our cues from someone who is one. 

We leave in less than two weeks for Paris and we are taking little miss with us.  I imagine she will be our good will ambassedor.
As she always is.